Infinitely Losing My Edge
Yeah, I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
The kids are coming up from behind.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids from Ethiopia and from Salvador.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television show in New York.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids whose footsteps I hear when they get on the decks.
I'm losing my edge to the internet seekers who can tell me every member of every good group from 1965 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston kids in little jackets and borrowed nostalgia for the unremembered nineties.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
I can hear the footsteps every night on the decks.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983 at the first Art of Noise practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart started up his first band.
I told him, "Don't do it that way. You'll never make a dime."
I was there.
I was the first guy playing Eric Copeland to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
Everybody thought I was crazy.
We all know.
I was there.
I was there.
I've never been wrong.
But I'm losing my edge to better-looking people with better ideas and more talent.
And they're actually really, really nice.
I'm losing my edge.
I heard you have a compilation of every good song ever done by anybody.
Every great song by Ten City. All the underground hits.
All Warren Ellis tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every James Chance & The Contortions record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Black Moon record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Faust,
Jerry's Kids,
Derrick May,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
La Düsseldorf,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Skaos,
Sixth Finger,
Brick,
Inner City,
Accadde A,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Aural Exciters,
Surgeon,
Deakin,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Soulsonic Force,
Rosa Yemen,
Dual Sessions,
the Soft Cell,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Ken Boothe,
Connie Case,
Barclay James Harvest,
Ronnie Foster,
Television Personalities,
Whodini,
Qualms,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Porter Ricks,
The Monochrome Set,
Ultimate Spinach,
10cc,
Swans,
Shuggie Otis,
Symarip,
Moebius,
Skriet,
Deepchord,
New Age Steppers,
Lalann,
Arab on Radar,
The Alarm Clocks,
Q and Not U,
Amon Düül II,
Fear,
Robert Hood,
The Skatalites,
Minutemen,
The Walker Brothers,
Patti Smith,
Kaleidoscope,
Rekid,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Isaac Hayes,
Thompson Twins,
Frankie Knuckles,
The Residents,
Donald Byrd,
The Gories,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Make Up, Make Up, Make Up, Make Up.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.